And, what with her impetus and the half-rotted condition of her hull, she struck with such force as to rip a hole in her forward quarter, wide enough to stick a derby hat through.
In rushed the water, filling her in an incredibly short time.
Settling by the head under the weight of this inpouring flood she toppled off the tooth of reef and slid free.

Then with a wallowing dignity she proceeded to sink.
The iron sheathing on her keel and hull had not been strong enough in its rusted state to resist the hammerblow of the reef.

But it was heavy enough, together with her big metal steering apparatus, to counterbalance any buoyant qualities left in the wooden frame.
And, down she went, waddling like a fat and ponderous hen, into a twenty-foot nest of water.
Gavin had wasted no time in the impossible feat of baling her or of plugging her unpluggable leak.

As she went swayingly toward the bottom of the bay he slipped clear of her and struck out through the tepid water.
The mangrove swamp's beach was a bare half-mile away.

And the man knew he could swim the intervening space with ease.